Three Minutes, Fifteen Seconds

It was a much anticipated basketball game.  The Lady Mavs vs. Lady Oilers.  There is no question that the Oilers had the advantage, height, experience, and let’s just be honest…money.  Most of their girls play club ball; maybe two of ours do.  But our girls have heart.  And a great coach.

But we got off to a bad start.  Our girls were a little intimidated; and they weren’t listening.  With three minutes and fifteen seconds left in the first quarter, we were down eight points, two timeouts, and our best player.  She racked up two fouls fast and went to the bench.

Then something unexpected happened.  At three minutes and fifteen seconds, the girls head back in from a timeout.  Mavs have possession and throw the ball in from the Oiler side of half court.  Our coach calls the play and the guards and posts spread out to the corners of the Mav side of the court.  Our point guard dribbles to just past half court into Mav territory.  And she stops walking.  And just dribbles.

I sensed immediately that something was amiss because our point guard, who is a very good ball handler, looked down right uncomfortable.  All movement on the court had stopped except for her steady dribbling.  The normal crowd sounds had diminished slightly so that when our coach hollered instructions, everyone heard,  “Just stay right there and dribble for the next three minutes and fifteen seconds.”

I thought to myself, "Is he serious?"  I'm sure the rest of the gym was thinking the same.  But our guard didn't move, and I realized that he was.  And though she looked a little unsure, she listened to his voice.

The gym became silent except for the steady pound of the dribble.  Right hand.  Left hand.  Back and forth.  The tension was thick, all eyes on the guard.  Oiler girls looked to their coach for instruction and just held their positions.  Someone in the crowd shouted, “C’mon.  Play some basketball!”

But Guard held steady and Coach encouraged, “You’re doing good.  Bend your knees.  Stay right there.”  And she did. 

I watched the clock ticking down, watched Guard, watched Coach, felt the tension of the crowd, the anticipation of the players, the uncomfortableness of Guard, and courage of Coach.  And smiled.

There are times in our lives when we are called to pause.  When it is our instinct to rush in and take action.  But we are called to wait.  To slow the game.  To stand and dribble.  To hold for three minutes and fifteen seconds until the fresh start of another quarter.

We spend so much time in a fast paced game, reaching in and picking up fouls without thought or need.  Throwing up desperate junk shots that we can’t possibly make.  All in the name of taking action.  But sometimes we need to stop.  And let the clock run.

But we resist the pauses.  They are uncomfortable.  Voices from the sidelines shouting.  Unspoken pressure from our peers on the court with us.  And just when you feel yourself wanting to give in, pass the ball because it feels like you should, you hear the voice that matters.  The one that says, “Hold steady.  You’re doing good.”  And for once, you hold.

It takes courage to pause.  But in the pause, there is rest.  There is time to think.  Time to listen.  Time to regroup.  Time to heal.

May you recognize the pauses in your life and have the courage to stand steady in their uncomfortableness, listening closely for the next play to be called.